Thoughts Revolving the Sky
by Lone Wulffe
Summary: A collection of IchiRuki drabbles. [02. That Which Tastes Sweetest: She knows it is forbidden, but that is not why she loves him.]
1. Sketches

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Bleach; the god Kubo does. If I did… well, IchiRuki would have been confirmed canon a long time ago, we'd have seen Shirayuki's form and Rukia would have Bankai. :P

Well, my first Bleach fic (drabble?), so please be nice (but constructive criticism is always welcome)!

**Title:** Sketches

**Spoilers:** None, except maybe Rukia's "adoption" into the Kurosaki household

**Timeline:** …Arrancar Arc? Actually, I'm not really sure (chalk it up to the plotbunnies)

**Words: **1,358

**Tagline:** Of all the things Ichigo had expected to find, this had not been one of them.

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Ichigo sighed wearily as he dragged himself into his room. School had been downright painful that day, and the Hollow that had shown up in the middle of lunch had not helped matters. Sure, it had gotten him away from Keigo and his pathetic displays of self-pity (something about Mizuiro's endless list of conquests compared to his blank score sheet), but the damn monster had made things unbearably difficult by constantly appearing and disappearing around town. Luckily enough for them Rukia had noticed a crude pattern in its "pop-up spot" selection, and they'd managed to dispose of it and make their way back to school in time for the next class. It had also been his day to stay back and clean up the classroom, and fortunately for him his partner had been Chad, who worked hard and talked little compared to Keigo, who spent half the time bemoaning his luck, or lack thereof, with girls and the other half asking extremely personal questions he had no right to ask.

Haphazardly, the boy threw his book bag onto his chair and fell backwards onto the bed, intent on grabbing some shuteye before he took a well-earned shower and dunked his already tired brain into his homework. Unfortunately for him, however, that was not to be. Instead of the soft mattress of his bed greeting his back, there was in its place something flat and hard obstructing his rest. Annoyed, he yanked the offending object from underneath him and scowled at it. It looked like a sketchbook.

Scratch that, it looked a hell of a lot like _Rukia's_ sketchbook. Taking a better look at the cover, he noticed, in the girl's rather neat handwriting, "Property of Kuchiki Rukia". Yep, it was definitely hers.

The representative shinigami frowned at the She-Devil's Equipment of Artistic Horrors. Trust her to leave her things all over the house, not to mention on his bed of all places. She must've been lounging around on it doodling while he had been stuck at school. Curious as to what his partner had been up to with her drawing tools, he carelessly flipped the sketchbook open.

And promptly gaped like a landed fish.

The drawings inside weren't bad.

In fact, they were good.

Very, _very_ good.

Ichigo flipped the sketchbook close and stared at the writing on the cover. There was no doubt that the tidy scrawl at the corner had been done by the same hands that wielded Sode no Shirayuki. He'd seen it enough all over his homework to be able to tell at a glance.

The boy flipped it open again, this time taking a good look at the drawings inside. There were several landscape and scenery sketches, which he could tell were various vantage points of Soul Society, both of Rukongai and Seireitei. A random one here and there seemed to be of Karakura, though.

And then there were the sketches of people.

There was one of Ukitake drinking tea as he stared off into space with a soft smile on his features, Byakuya doing paperwork, Renji practicing, the two third-seats of the Thirteenth Division (Kiyone and Sentarou, if he wasn't mistaken) arguing about something, Hanatarou sweeping the floor… Every single one had been drawn with such skill that it was hard to think the artist was the same one responsible for those horrible rabbit and bear examples he was used to seeing.

Scanning through a few blank pages, he was about to snap the sketchbook shut when he noticed that the last two pages had already been used. Curiosity piqued, he postponed the thought of returning it to its owner and stole a look.

And let his jaw hit the floor with a resounding 'thunk'.

Of all the things… of all the people he would've expected to find drawn in those two pages, he had never expected _himself_ to be it.

The first one he recognized to be when he had arrived at the bridge of the Senzaikyuu, bloody and bandaged from having recently survived his duel with Kenpachi. In the sketch, he was looking to his right, and he realized he was seeing himself from her point of view. The second was no less unidentifiable. In it, he was looking downwards, floating in midair as he carelessly fended off Soukyoku with Zangetsu, the cloak Yoruichi had lent him flapping in the wind.

Why, he thought to himself, would she draw these, much less keep them separate from the others?

So engrossed was he with the drawings that he failed to notice the footsteps that were getting louder and closer to his room until it was too late.

"Ichigo, have you seen my sketch… book…" Rukia trailed off as she noticed the said object in the hands of the boy, who looked for all the world like a child who'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Immediately she paled, before bounding across the room with her hand outstretched for the book. Ichigo was not to be outmaneuvered, however, and made ample use of his height advantage over her to hold it high above his head out of her grasp.

"Ichigo!" she practically screeched. "Give it back!" Color had returned to her cheeks, although now they looked a little… redder than usual. (Was the great Kuchiki Rukia actually _blushing_?)

"Nuh uh. Not until you tell me exactly why you don't always draw like this," he said as he yet again kept the sketchbook just out of her range. "Besides, I haven't finished looking though it yet." Which was a big fat lie, but he wasn't about to tell her he'd seen her sketches of _him_. That would make things extremely awkward for both of them, and he didn't want that.

"That's… that's because it takes me a long time to do even one, bastard!" With that said, she gave him a well-aimed kick to his shin, causing him to howl in pain and clutch the sore area, effectively dropping the sketchbook. She caught it before it fell to the floor, and promptly spun on her heels before jumping into his (her) closet and snapping the door shut behind her.

Wincing in pain at the closed door from his position on the floor, Ichigo thought that he'd probably gotten off with a light punishment this time (perhaps because she was embarrassed?). After all, he'd technically invaded her privacy by looking into her stuff without her knowledge, and then asking questions about it. Groaning out loud, partly from the pain and partly from frustration, he pulled himself up into a sitting position as he contemplated how to fix the problem at hand. (Because he knew Rukia well enough to know that when she was mad, there was no telling _what_ she could come up with.)

After some serious thinking, he got up and cautiously approached his (her) closet. "Uh… Rukia?" he tried tentatively, knocking on the door. Silence ensued, and just as he was about to try his luck again he got a response.

"…What do you want?" she muttered, evidently discontented by the recent events. Her gruff question was partially muffled by the door that separated them.

"Listen, uh…" he fumbled for a way to apologize without actually apologizing (that was _so_ not him, and besides she'd never let him live it down if he did), "If you're that interested in drawing, I know a place that's got some killer scenery. I could show it to you, if you want."

The silence returned, but this time he waited patiently for her answer.

"…I'd like that."

He allowed himself a small smile, only because he knew she couldn't see it thanks to the door.

"Great. I'll take you there after I take my bath," he replied as he grabbed his clothes.

"You should, you idiot; I can smell your stink from inside here," came Rukia's muffled retort.

Ichigo merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever, midget."

_Later, as he watches her frown in concentration as she works furiously on the sketchbook, he can't help but think that no matter how good that sketch turns out, the girl drawing it will always be more beautiful_

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My first attempt… Hope you liked it.

EDIT: Special thanks to the guys who pointed out whatever errors there were in this. You know who you are. ;-)


	2. That Which Tastes Sweetest

DISCLAIMER: See first chapter/drabble.

O.o 12 reviews in one day! That's an unbelievable new personal record for me. (is still in shock) In response to the reviews I got…

**angels-of-the-silence**: Ehehehe, I'm so glad you liked it! Honestly, I was nervous about how it would turn out at the beginning. Thank you for your support!

**Syneiam**: Yeah, I know; the thought itself is near-impossible. XD

**SoDanielle**: Don't we Rukia fans all wish that? Ah, but those ridiculous bunnies and bears can grow on you after some time…

**Lunacat13**: (beams)

**Alucius**: (bows) I was aiming for that.

**Lori**: (nudge) You know they're growing on ya. :P And thank you very much for the compliment!

**O, YKW**: Yay! (hugs back)

**Drunksonic**: (scratches head in embarrassment)

**Biscotti**: Excessive praise, but I'll take it anyway. :P Arigatou!

**Adam Epp**: Er… the plotbunny was high on sugar…? I swear the idea came out of nowhere…

**Crimson Arrow**: I'm ignoring your "request"…

**Kyadytim**: Well, about that… I kind of got tired of constantly using the word "sketchbook", so…

**intercostalspace**: I will do my best not to disappoint you.

Wow, that was actually exhausting… Maybe I shouldn't make it a common practice. ;; Anyway, on with the drabblefic!

**Title:** That Which Tastes Sweetest

**Spoilers:** None

**Words:** 552

**Tagline:** She knows it is forbidden, but that is not why she loves him.

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She knows it's wrong. This… this indescribable thing between them is sin in its purest form on so many levels that she would go dizzy before she can finish counting them all. He is himself a physical manifestation of the greatest blasphemy there is of the tenacious balance that holds their worlds together. His very existence is a taboo. To love him, to even feel anything close to affection for him is sacrilege of the greatest degree.

And yet, knowing all these things, she still chose to plunge headfirst into this fate from which there was no turning back.

She is very familiar with the term "forbidden fruit", and finds it incredibly funny that it should be applied to him, of all people. After all, his namesake is a fruit, as much as he fervently protests every time she mentions it. (She doesn't find him complaining, however, when she uses that strawberry-flavored lip gloss Inoue helped her pick out.) The very idea of a "them" existing is frowned upon by so many people. Soul Society's laws, Nii-sama's quiet disapproval, the Kuchiki elder's displeasure, Renji's violent protests, Yamamoto-sou-taichou's orders… There are too many laws and too many people that disallow a relationship between a human and a shinigami, much less between him and her.

But in the end, it doesn't matter how many rules threaten to seal away her freedom, because he'll break them all for her.

He has, after all, already done the impossible for her.

Actually, when she thinks about it, the age-old saying really can't quite be applied to what she feels for him. The undecipherable emotions, the unwavering loyalty she has for him are not rooted in the fact that to desire him would be an act of defiance to all that she once held important and precious to her heart. (They still are those things, but not more so than him.)

It is, she believes, the way he makes her feel so, so… _alive_. When she's with him, she doesn't need to act, to put on the mask she's grown so accustomed to wearing that sometimes it scares her how much of herself she shows him. But she can trust him, because he is the same as her in this case. How he behaves when he's with her is so utterly different compared to how he is to the rest of the world that it's like two sides of a coin. When they're together, the façades fall away. It's as simple, as complicated as that.

Perhaps in its own way, this unveiling of their true selves is forbidden in itself, for by exchanging their truths they are also giving each other near-complete control of themselves.

The way he murmurs her name with something akin to reverence, the way he looks at her like he can see into her very soul, the way he touches her that leaves trails of fire on her skin yet sends shivers through her slight frame, they way he kisses her until all the only thing that exists in the world is them…

The way he makes her feel so vulnerable and defenseless yet so safe and protected at the same time when she's with him.

This, she thinks to herself, is why she loves him.

_After all, rules are made to be broken._

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In case you haven't figured it out, the title is a reference to the old saying, "Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest," which is the same saying Rukia is referring to in the story. Sorry this one's so short; I'll try to make it longer next time.


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